This my story of being an American in Montana and my pursuit of Muscles, Wisdom and other random shit along the way.

Signs That You Are Your Parents Least Favorite Child.

When you visit your parents’ home, you can’t help but notice your old bedroom has been converted into a “Hobby Room” while your sibling’s bedrooms remain perfectly intact…Almost like shrines to them.

Your parents really don’t mind that you plan on never having children of your own, in fact they encourage you not to have any, all the while they keep asking your sibling’s when they are going to make them Grandparent’s.

You can’t make it to Thanksgiving, and your Mom sends you photos of the great time everyone is having without you…They all seem oddly elated.

After an eye-opening conversation with your friends one night, you learn that it is not customary for the oldest sibling to get the hand-me-downs.

Your parents call you once every three months to make sure you are still alive, while discussing at length your sister’s new book deal and your brother’s new car. Your life as a community organizer just doesn’t make the cut.

Your parent’s have renamed you without your knowledge or consent…You think you might now be named Horace…But you don’t know for sure because you have to wait two more month’s for their phone call.

Your parent’s visit you once every couple of years and while there, they spend most of their time on Facebook admiring photos of your sibling’s.

Your parent’s ask you why your husband isn’t “providing” like your sisters husband is…You have to remind them that you are not married and are a straight male.

You got a promotion, your parent’s jump on Facebook to swiftly congratulate you before writing a sonnet about all the features of your brother’s new car.

During one drunken night with your Dad, he tearfully confesses that he sold your gaming system when you were eight so that your brother could take a summer writing class at the youth center. He had so much promise, and anyway, you couldn’t get past the first level on Mario.

You receive a birthday card and it reads:

Horace,

Hope you are having a terrific birthday. We were so excited when you came into the world and remember the day like it was yesterday.

Love,

Mom and Dad

(This is conformation that your new name is actually “Horace” and your birthday isn’t for another four months.)

You finally decide to leave Facebook all together because you are sick of watching your parents salivate over your sister’s new book deal and your brother’s new car. Your parent’s immediately call you concerned that you are about to kill yourself, because to them, leaving Facebook is synonymous with death. After convincing them that you are not spiraling into a black pit of despair, they make sure you know that you are loved, regardless of how uninteresting you are.